


Cold pizza makes the best breakfast

by id_ten_it



Series: Inktober [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Inktober, Inktober 2020, M/M, Mycroft's Ring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:54:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27321547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/id_ten_it/pseuds/id_ten_it
Summary: In which Greg promises Mycroft to save him some pizza, and Mycroft promises not to make any deductions.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Series: Inktober [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2003845
Kudos: 48





	Cold pizza makes the best breakfast

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Inktober prompt nr 1 (dramatic) from the alternative Inktober pompt list found [here](https://vkelleyart.tumblr.com/post/630712063324504064/we-are-doing-this-thing-yall-so-it-was), with thanks for the originator for doing the hard yards and providing a better alternative to the original.

Greg stretches out on the sofa, kneading the opposite end briefly with bare toes, resettling his glasses and turning to the next page of _Sharpe’s Company_. He was just getting to the climax of the chapter when a quietly-shut door and burst of musky cologne claimed his attention.  
“Sure you’ll be alright?” Mycroft perched on the arm of the sofa, running cool fingers over Greg’s ankles.  
“Mmm. S’too grey to go out. And all those guys are toffs.”  
“Toffs can be nice.” Mycroft teased, patting his knee, lighting up when Greg lay the book down on his own chest and parted his legs invitingly. “Promise not to wrinkle your penguin suit.”  
Still smiling, Mycroft lowered himself into the warm space for a hug. “Does it look alright?”  
“You look stunning.” Greg inhaled deeply, chuckling, “smell amazing too. S’that Armani?”  
“Hmm.” Mycroft patiently held his neck still while his partner had a gentle sniff.  
“Smells great on you.”  
“You’ve good taste.” But Mycroft’s fair skin couldn’t hide a blush at the compliment.  
“C’mon” Policeman’s fingers gently turned his pink face upwards. “Sweetheart, you look wonderful. Stunning. Nearly good enough to get me off the couch.” Greg winked. Mycroft, overly-mollified, chuckled gently. “Alright you, that’s enough. I’m not fishing for compliments.”  
“Coulda fooled me” Greg rewarded him with another kiss.  
“I’ve been married” the diplomat attempted haughtily, primming his lips but letting his hands wander, “some say I’m even subtle enough to be a politician. Do you think you’d know if I were fishing?”  
“I don’t think you need to fish. I always find you handsome, you know that.” Reminded of something he’d noticed earlier, Greg let his fingers hover over Mycroft’s. “You’ve moved your ring.”  
“You know I need to keep wearing a safety device. But…”  
“But nothing. I love you.” Leaning their foreheads together, Greg murmured, “Thank you.” They shared a soppy smile before Mycroft sighed and stood. “Thanks for the cologne. See you in the morning.”  
“Mhm. L’save you some pizza.”  
“My favourite breakfast, how could I refuse? Sleep well.”  
“Bye.” Greg settled back to finish his chapter, but couldn’t stop thinking about his partner. Mycroft had worn his ring as a widow’s band and safety device both for decades. It was the training that had stopped him fiddling with it as many men did, as much a part of both his persona and his personal life as the suits and umbrella, and good at hiding a scar too. And now he had made it a signet ring. Same safe purpose, but a completely different suggestion to his partner.

Greg spent so long pondering if grown men looking for their second marriage asked their partner’s family for a blessing that he nearly forgot to order pizza. Luckily he remembered and managed to eat enough to prevent Mycroft from worrying. Did they want to marry?

***

Mycroft smiled fondly at the unmoving lump between him and his side of the bed. It wasn’t that often, these days, that Greg felt the need to snuggle his pillow, but when he did Mycroft always felt more than a little guilty at reclaiming said pillow. Still. Easing into bed, he gradually convinced Greg to transfer his grip and settled down with arms full of Greg and nose gently nuzzling delectably greying hair. “g’d nigh’?”  
“Very good. Back to sleep now.”  
“M’gla’” a huge stretch, a weary sigh, and Greg was back to resting most of his weight on the mattress – barring his left arm draped firmly across Mycroft and apparently seeking his fingers. “Goo’. S’till there.” Seemingly content with having claimed Mycroft’s left side and right hand, Greg blindly kissed his partner’s neck, muttered something incomprehensible about rings, and returned to a deep sleep. _Ridiculous man_ Mycroft smiled, closing his eyes the better to not see what Greg clearly did not want him to see.


End file.
